


The difference between hiding and treating your symptoms is getting over yourself

by painting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Established Relationship, Illness, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painting/pseuds/painting
Summary: Keith has a cold. It's fine. He's been sick before. It's embarrassing and annoying and he'd rather do anything other than talk about it to other people, but life goes on. Lance's approach is a little different.





	

**Author's Note:**

> not much going on here just imo (indulging myself online)

Keith slept like the dead.

Practically as soon as he got into Lance’s bed last night, he was out cold and already in a deep slumber, and now Lance was finding that Keith was just as hard to wake up in the morning. It was totally unfair, too, because it often took Lance a long while to calm the thoughts in his brain down enough to lull himself to sleep (often by repeating a song in his head over and over; this week it was Beyonce. Well, every week was Beyonce), and last night Keith had slept so still, so peacefully, while Lance entangled the both of them in the sheets by the time he woke up.

It was kind of annoying, just like most things Keith did (stop it, Lance, he’s your boyfriend now, you shouldn’t say things like that anymore, even when he _is_ being -- okay, seriously, stop it!) because this gave Lance zero chance for pillow talk or any other fun spending the night activities before Keith was out like a light. And obviously also this meant that Keith would _never_ make him breakfast (Would he if Lance asked? Did Keith know how to cook?), but there was still a silver lining.

Well, first of all, to understand the silver lining one had to be aware that Keith wasn’t much of a cuddler. Yeah, he would hold hands (great!) and let Lance put his arm around him (super great!), but aside from that, Keith hadn’t done much in lieu of initiating physical affection. Maybe he just didn’t know how. Maybe Lance could teach him -- he was an _awesome_ teacher, after all. But, on the contrary, once Keith had fallen asleep, it had been really easy for Lance to roll him over so Keith’s head was resting on Lance’s chest and his arm was over Lance’s waist, and he stayed like that for the entire night. Or, at least he did until Lance himself fell asleep and ended up kicking everything around.

“Babe,” Lance whispered. “Sweetheart. Darling.” At least this was a good chance for him to call Keith the pet names he deserved, because during his waking hours Keith would always…

“My name is Keith,” he mumbled, his voice rough and hoarse, just before stealing Lance’s pillow and smashing it down over his own face to block out the light.

...Yeah, he would always say that.

“Okay, Keith, _Honey_ , I have class today, so. I have to get up. So I’m leaving the bed. To take a shower. And get breakfast. And--”

Keith rolled over, facing the wall away from Lance. “I’m sleeping,” he insisted. “I’m asleep.” Jeez, he was _not_ a morning person. He sounded terrible.

Lance grabbed Keith’s hip shoulder and rocked him a couple of times, like he was testing his boyfriend’s docile state. “Okaaaay,” he whined, tugging his comforter back up into place over Keith’s body. “I’ll be back soon, _Guapito!_ ”

Keith groaned in response and pulled the covers over his head. Lance could hear Keith coughing to clear his throat as he walked down the hall and into the bathroom.

Lance had a standing offer for Hunk to use any of the skin and hair care products he kept on the kitchen sink and shower ledge, but Hunk always purchased his own simple body wash and shampoo and used Lance’s sparingly. Lance’s collection of soaps and shampoos and moisturizers was quickly starting to overflow, and he accidentally knocked a couple of them down on his way out after he’d taken a shower.

“You have to stow some of those away in your room, man,” Hunk told Lance as he entered the kitchen. “It’s getting to be too much. I barely have enough space for my toothbrush.” He was standing over the stove, still in his pajamas, with a half-empty carton of eggs and a couple of glass spice jars.

“You leave my soaps out of this!” Lance said. “There’s no sink in my room! What am I supposed to do with them when they’re in there? Just… look at them?”

“No, dude, you just carry them to the bathroom before you take a shower,” Hunk explained, sounding exasperated. “Do you want any eggs?”

Lance pulled a box of cereal out from one of their cabinets and shook it at Hunk as his answer. “That’s why I got an apartment with you instead of staying in the dorms,” he complained as he began to pour it into a bowl. “I like being able to decide which product to use _in the moment!_ ”

“Whatever, at least move, like, a third of them,” Hunk compromised, and Lance crunched his breakfast angrily in response. He moved to the table, hunching over his food as Hunk continued to cook. Lance had only just taken his second bite when Hunk flipped an egg and said, “So, Keith is in your room.”

Lance practically choked. “Oh my god, we didn’t _do_ anything, stop looking at me like that! He fell asleep _right away_ and--”

“Relax! He’s your boyfriend,” Hunk said. “It’s pretty normal. Stop pretending you don’t like him? That’s even weirder. I was just going to ask if you thought he might want something to eat when he wakes up.”

“Who knows. That guy sleeps like he’s in a coma or something,” Lance sighed. “Even if you wake him up, he’s snoring again two seconds later!”

“I don’t snore.”

“I don’t think that’s how a coma works -- aw, Keith, good morning!”

“Morning.” Keith and Hunk had practically spoken over each other, but Keith still managed to understand and respond to him as he entered the kitchen looking hilariously disheveled and rubbing his forehead in the space right above his eye. “You’re right, it isn’t how a coma works.”

“What, suddenly you’re both doctors now?” Lance said.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Keith retorted quickly. His voice sounded different, still raspy and thick with sleep, but the usual heat in his tone hadn’t faltered one bit.

“Well, either way, you did too snore last night, _Querido_ ,” Lance concluded.

“I told you to stop calling me…” Keith began, but his voice faded out, his statement ending in a couple of dry, irritated coughs instead. Hunk set a glass of orange juice down in front of him and then sat down at the table with his own plate.

“Vitamin C,” Hunk said simply as Keith began to sip from the glass. “Do you want anything to eat? Or were you just going to have breakfast at home, or…?”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Keith said. He stared down at the table before looking up at Hunk and Lance. “I came here with Shiro yesterday, so I didn’t bring my keys and he won’t be home until after he’s done at the lab tonight--”

“Oh, okay, why don’t you just hang out here for a while?” Hunk suggested. “Lance’s class is only like, what, an hour long? By the time you’ve eaten and showered, he’ll already be back. And I don’t have any Friday classes, so, you know. I’ll be around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith answered. He looked at Lance. “That’s… okay with you, right? I’m not imposing?”

“What? Dude, you’re fine,” Lance reassured him. “You can just shower here and wear something of mine.” He gestured toward his bedroom and finished off his cereal. He had always eaten quickly, almost like he was hyperfocusing on his food, and this morning wasn’t an exception. If it had been something Hunk had cooked, he probably would have scolded Lance and told him to slow down.

“Okay,” Keith agreed. “When does your class start, anyway?”

“Uh, 10:30,” Lance said.

“It’s 10:23.”

“Shit! Oh my god. Why didn’t you guys _tell_ me?!” Lance pushed out his chair so quickly that it scraped against the yellow tile flooring, and didn’t bother to put his bowl in the sink as he rushed into his bedroom to get dressed.

-

Lance and Hunk didn’t have central AC in their apartment, just a couple of window units, and Keith didn’t understand why Lance always wanted the one in the living room to be running, even when it was late September with a high of 65 degrees. He said it helped him sleep better, but now Lance was in class and Keith was left to deal with his freezing apartment with towel-dried damp hair as he tried not to look pathetic burrowing into one of Lance’s pullover sweaters. The sleeves were a little too long and covered the top of each of Keith’s hands, but at least Lance’s socks were thick and snug on his feet.

Pidge had woken up by the time Keith had gotten himself dressed, and she greeted him with a short laugh when he walked past her in the living room and sat on the couch. “Oh my god. Sorry. Hey Keith. You look like you’re drowning.”

Keith looked down at himself with a frown. “I didn’t think Lance was that much bigger than me.” Saying it made him feel weird, like he was admitting that Lance had beaten him at something, but Keith knew, rationally, that height wasn’t something he could help.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Pidge said. She was sitting cross-legged on one of Hunk and Lance’s mismatched armchairs with her laptop in front of her. “I think that one’s big on him too. Blue is a good color on you though!” She had a box of crackers next to her on the chair, and she held it out to Keith. “Breakfast?”

Keith reached inside the box and took a handful. “Are you…” He cleared his throat. “Are you wearing different clothes than the ones you had on yesterday?” He took a bite, and god, his throat was killing him. The scratchiness of the food didn’t help, and to be truthful, his sinuses were so swollen that he could barely taste it. “Did you already go home and change, or something?”

“I’m fast, Keith, but I’m not _that_ fast,” Pidge answered. Keith was impressed by the way she was able to make eye contact while her fingers continued to type lightning-fast on the keyboard. “I just keep a couple spare things here since I crash on that couch so much.” She pointed to the very couch Keith was sitting on, and he noticed the thick blanket hanging off of the other side. “By the way, Hunk wanted me to tell you that there are some cough drops in the drawer next to the fridge. They’d keep them in the bathroom, but Lance’s avalanche of shampoo or whatever is in the way.”

Keith’s expression hardened at the suggestion, and he immediately protested. “I’m fine. I’m not…”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Pidge rolled her eyes, sounding exasperated but not unfriendly. “Shiro already ratted you out. And you sound really stuffed up.”

“Thanks.” Was it really that obvious? Keith had just had a sore throat two days ago, but it had only intensified as time passed and the raw, tight ache had spread to his forehead and sinuses by the time he and Shiro left their apartment the night before. He hadn’t said anything about feeling sick, but he wouldn’t put it past Shiro to notice something like that in Keith.

He got up to retrieve the medicine -- if the cat was out of the bag, might as well make himself more comfortable -- and found that there were only two candies left in the package of assorted cough drops. That was fair, Keith supposed; he hadn’t asked for them in the first place.

Hunk entered the kitchen just as Keith was throwing away the empty bag, and he gave him a confused look. “Keith, did you already eat all of our cough drops?”

“No!” Keith exclaimed reflexively, then regretted not speaking more softly. “I just took the last two, I figured you didn’t want me to put an empty bag back.”

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “A likely story,” he accused, but his mock-suspicion only lasted a second before he laughed. “Just kidding. I’ll text Lance to pick up another bag while he’s out.”

-

By the time Lance returned, Keith was back on the couch facing away from the front door. Pidge hadn’t moved from her spot, and Hunk was sitting next to Keith, talking to him and Pidge about his new hardass engineering professor’s ban on in-class electronics during his lectures.

“Hunk!” Lance called, unabashedly interrupting his story. “First of all, whatever you’re baking smells amazing. I really hope it’s another pie and we get to keep it _here_ instead of you bringing it to one of Shay’s student government meetings. Second, why cough drops? I know you like to keep our medicine drawer stocked, but…”

“What? No, dude, those are for Keith. And it’s a cobbler, not a pie.”

“What?” Lance echoed. He set the bag down, dessert forgotten, and entered the living room. “Keith isn’t sick. Babe, are you sick?”

“Lance, I told you to _quit calling me_ \--”

“Oh! Oh my god, you _are_ sick!” Lance realized. He hung his upper body over the back of the couch until his chin was resting on the top of Keith’s head. “Listen to how you said my name! ‘ _Ladce_ ’,” he imitated. “Oh, man, this is so great!”

Keith bristled. Had Lance really not changed at all since they started dating? “Seriously? You think it’s _great_ that I’m--”

“No, no, no no no,” Lance corrected as he started patting Keith’s chest in what Keith guessed was supposed to be sympathy or affection. “I’m just saying that if you have to be sick, I’m like, the _best_ boyfriend ever. I’m _amazing_ at taking care of sick people.”

“It’s true,” Pidge attested. “He’s really annoying about it, but--”

“Hey!”

“...But the week I got my wisdom teeth out was like, the most comfortable I’ve ever been, thanks to Lance. He made me milkshakes in the blender and everything.”

Lance stood up straight, tilting his head toward the ceiling and crossing his arms, looking triumphant. “See? You’re in good hands.” He crossed over to the other side of the couch, grabbed the blanket that Pidge had slept under the night before, and tucked it around Keith’s shoulders.

“It’s just a cold,” Keith said, his tone bewildered and resistant.

“Stop!” Lance demanded. “Come on, I’m being a good boyfriend. Just let me take care of you!”

Keith had never been fussed over when he was sick, and having attention on him for something he associated with weakness and vulnerability sounded almost as miserable than the illness itself. He was used to taking a painkiller and working through it, and Keith knew that this was not what Lance had in mind.

Still, he felt awful. His throat was like sandpaper on fire and he was so congested that it was making him feel claustrophobic, and even after sleeping through the night his body felt tired and achy like he’d just come out of a bad fight. Besides, he knew it would make Lance feel better, too, and wasn’t that something couples did for each other, anyway? Keith had hooked up with guys before, sure, but he’d never been in a… _relationship_ like this one. Didn’t they always say _in sickness and in health_ , or whatever?

“Okay,” he agreed. “What do I have to do?”

“'What do you have to'…? Oh my god, Keith, have you ever been sick before?”

“What kind of a question is that? Everyone gets sick!”

“Yeah, but do you even know _how_ to be sick?”

“There’s no _right way_ to be sick. What are you talking about?”

“Oh man. Keith. Buddy. Sweetheart. Listen. You have _so much_ to learn.”

-

Hunk loved his best friend. He’d go to hell and back for the guy. In fact, god, speaking of the place, you could call the state of their laundry unit ‘hell’ without even being too liberal, given how much of Lance’s summer clothing collection was scattered all over the drying rack and the floor. It was weird because Lance was generally acceptably organized when it came to his space, but something about off-season clothes shut off the part of his brain that willed his body to _pick things up_ and put them where they belonged.

Anyway.

Hunk loved Lance, shortcomings and all, piece by piece, every last bit of him, and repeating this to himself over and over was making Hunk feel a lot less guilty for wanting to kill him.

“You need to calm down, dude,” he said as Lance switched between pacing between the kitchen and living room and flopping over their couch with a moan for the dozenth time in an hour. Hunk wasn’t always so calm himself, but the irony of his statement was lost to the frustration he felt.

“ _How_ am I supposed to calm down?” Lance demanded, sounding absolutely scandalized. “My boyfriend is _soooo sick_. And he hasn’t texted me in almost an hour? Who could be calm at a time like this!”

“Your boyfriend has the sniffles,” Pidge said without looking up from her computer screen. “I think he’ll survive.”

“Yeah, you didn’t even know he was sick until earlier this morning,” Hunk pointed out. “So he can’t be that bad.”

Lance just moaned again and slid further down on the couch, his torso almost horizontal and his knees knocking into the coffee table. He and Keith had disappeared into Lance’s room earlier and remained relatively quiet (Hunk suspected Keith had a headache, and Lance was good enough at this kind of thing to realize he had to speak softly) until a couple of hours had passed, and Keith emerged with the news that Shiro had gotten out of lab early and was going to let him in the house.

“Do you think I was like, too pushy?” Lance asked. Predictably, he had insisted that Keith stay, but Keith told them that he had some ‘things to take care of’ at home and he ‘really was feeling better, thanks Lance’ (and Hunk did _not_ want to think about what that last part could have meant).

“You’re always too pushy,” Pidge answered. “Keith wouldn’t be dating you if he couldn’t handle it.”

“I hope he’s feeling better by tonight,” Hunk adds. His cobbler is sitting fresh and hot on the countertop in the kitchen, but it’s the least of his worries right now. “I know Shay really wanted to meet him.”

“What’s tonight?” Lance asked. His eyes were glued to his phone, despite the screen being turned off.

“You don’t remember? Shay is giving a speech in the south auditorium,” Hunk says. “That’s why I made the cobbler? We were all going to come back here after.”

“Oh yeah!” Lance sounded happy for the reminder, but he didn’t move from his slumped over position. “Do you think Keith remembered?”

“Probably,” Pidge said. “Keith is at least marginally thoughtful.”

“Are you saying I’m _not_ thought-- Hey!” Lance’s phone buzzed, and he sat up straight on the couch, his eyes scanning over the words on the screen. “It’s Keith,” he said, continuing to read. “He said he just fell asleep before! Oh my god, you guys, he’s _sooo_ \--”

“Ask him if he’s still coming tonight,” Pidge said, cutting him off before he could begin. Hunk gave no verbal response, but he was grateful for it regardless. It was hard to stop Lance once he got started.

Lance nodded, concentratedly tapping on his screen. “He said yes!” he announces after a few moments. “They’re gonna meet us there. Him and Shiro.”

“Okay, great!” Hunk said. “I’ll reserve us some seats. Is he feeling any better?”

“I… don’t know,” Lance admitted. He sounded dejected. “He said I’m not allowed to ask him that more than once every two hours.”

Probably for the better, Hunk thinks to himself as he stands up to start getting ready for the event.

-

Keith was coughing when Lance first saw him outside the south auditorium. He’d cleaned up a little with a plain maroon collared shirt worn under a thick grey sweater, and his hair pulled up in the back. But he didn’t look any less tired than he had earlier, his face pale with pink at the tip of his nose, and Lance felt a little guilty for insisting that he come. _Maybe he should be in bed. Maybe he should be--_

“Hey guys,” Shiro said, approaching the group with a friendly wave. “Long time no see, huh?”

“I am _so_ sorry we’re late,” Hunk replied. “ _Lance_ held us up because he wanted to make tea for Keith -- no offense, Keith, super glad you could make it -- and dude, Lance, I don’t know why you couldn’t have done that _beforehand_ \--”

“It’s better fresh!” Lance insisted, already at Keith’s side. He handed him a tall thermos, urging Keith to take a sip. “It’s really good for your throat. Family recipe.”

Keith looked at him and took a drink from the thermos, blinking slowly. “Thanks,” he said. “What’s in this? Are we even allowed to bring drinks inside?”

“It’s a university function, Keith, not the opera,” Pidge said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Keith cleared his throat and took another sip. “We’re not gonna get kicked out because you wanna drink your boyfriend’s _love potion_.”

Keith nearly choked.

“So. _Anyway_ ,” Hunk said impatiently. “Speaking of going inside? We should do that. We’re already behind schedule--”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Lance protested.

“It was _your_ fault,” Keith pointed out.

“Wh-- I did it for _you!_ ”

“Yeah. You did,” Keith said, sounding soft and sincere. “Thanks.”

“Stop, stop, please. For the sake of my bleeding, hopeless romantic heart,” Pidge said flatly. She squeezed Keith’s shoulder, then finally let go and dropped her arm. “Shiro, is Allura coming too?”

Shiro shook his head, making a motion with his hand for the rest of them to start following Hunk inside. “No, she’s at a conference with her father tonight. She said she’d try to stop by after though, if we’re still up.”

“Oh, we’ll be up,” Pidge said with a grin, and the group filed one by one into the auditorium.

-

Lance had fed cough drops to Keith throughout the entire speech. He was apparently carrying a bulk supply of them in the inner pockets of his jacket, and whenever Keith cleared his throat, Lance would pass him one of the mentholated candies like it was… like it was a secret or something. They’d certainly helped; his throat was dry, after all, but Keith couldn’t make use of the tissues Lance would hand over practically every time he _sniffled_. He wasn’t going to blow his nose in the middle of someone else’s speech, so he mostly just swiped underneath it instead and crumpled them into his pocket for later.

Shay had been nice. Like, really nice, and impressively passionate, which had shown through in the way she delivered her speech and talked to the students afterward. She’d even hugged them when they first met, despite knowing he was sick (well, at least Keith could presume she knew, since Lance and his big mouth had spread the news far and wide after he found out).

And Hunk was totally, completely enamored with her. Keith wasn’t sure if they were dating, or like, pre-dating (Pidge told them the stage beforehand was called “talking”, which Keith definitely didn’t understand but didn’t ask questions about, either), but whatever they were, the adoration in Hunk’s eyes was unmistakeable. Keith couldn’t think of someone better for him.

“I really appreciate you coming tonight,” she told him, once everyone was back at Hunk and Lance’s apartment and settled into a comfortable groove for the evening. She held out a disposable blue cup to him. “Here, have you tried this yet? Pidge is making them, some sort of mixed drink.”

Keith started to accept, but pulled back at the last second. “I’m probably contagious,” he warned, gesturing to his face.

“Oh, whatever,” Shay insisted, placing it into his hands. That was twice tonight that someone had brought a drink for Keith, and he took a sip, feeling some of the workings of deja vu.

“That’s _strong_ ,” he observed, fighting the urge to cough from the alcohol. The drink burned on its way down to his stomach, a warmth different than what he’d felt with the tea Lance had given him earlier that evening. He handed the cup back to Shay. “The alcohol might kill off any germs it comes into contact with.”

Shay laughed. “That’s funny,” she said, just as Lance approached the two of them and briefly leaned his head on top of Keith’s.

“Shay,” he said, his voice clear and a little loud. “Are you getting my boyfriend drunk?”

“Like a fish,” Keith answered for her. Was that the right expression? He couldn't remember. “Can’t you tell?”

“Nah,” Lance waved off with a grin. “Shay, his face gets all pink, it’s so cute, you should see it--”

“It doesn’t!” Keith protested, his voice cracking midway through the second word. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “At least I don’t get all… grabby.”

“Excuse you!” Lance said. He rooted around in his pocket before producing another cough drop -- sometimes he surprised Keith with how observant he could be. “I’m not grabby, I’m _affectionate_. I’m a delight.”

“You’re very grabby,” Hunk chimed in, appearing next to Shay like a magnet. “Last night he totally had this, like, octopus-hold on Keith, we couldn’t get him to let go.”

“I wasn’t even drunk!”

“That’s right. You just like me,” Keith said.

“I _guess_ you’re right,” Lance replied.

“Hey, you guys are in public, remember?” Hunk pointed out. Since Lance and Keith had gotten together, it had become a running gag between him and Pidge to rib them about the most miniscule amounts of PDA -- mostly because Lance and Keith knew that they were thrilled for them, and it wasn’t like any amount of criticism from his friends could keep Lance’s hands off of Keith anyway. “Enough with the sappy love stuff.”

“I’m in my own _home!_ ” Lance replied.

Gesturing to Shay, Hunk said, “We have _guests?_ ”

“Hmm. Okay, you got me there,” Lance admitted, then said to Shay, “Hunk is a genius, y’know.”

“Maybe you are drunk…” Hunk considered, trying to deflect, but he sounded almost bashful to be complimented in front of Shay.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Please. This is Lance a _u naturale_ , baby! What you see _is_ the real me.”

Keith chose that moment to turn away from the group, shielding the lower half of his face with his forearm. He sneezed once and stayed like that, waiting, and then he did it again, a little more forceful the second time with more emphasis on the second syllable.

Both Hunk and Shay said “bless you” to him, but Lance overlapped with a reflexive _salud_ anyway, feeling oddly protective.

“Thanks,” Keith acknowledged, sounding a lot more embarrassed than he did thankful, but it was all just niceties anyway.

“Are you feeling much better?” Shay asked. “Hunk said you’ve been sick since yesterday.”

Keith cleared his throat and his fingers twitched like he wanted to lift his hands to tug uncomfortably at his collar. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You’re-- Oh my god, he’s always doing this,” Lance said. “One time? Like probably last winter. Keith kicked down this _really_ elaborate display outside of the poly-sci building--”

“It was propaganda!” Keith defended instantly.

“Yeah, anyway, he _kicked it down_ and like, fractured this bone in his foot because that thing was _huge_ , and made of metal I think, and he was limping around trying to run to class and stuff, it was so stupid--”

“Oh yeah!” Hunk added. “I remember. And we were all, ‘Keith, is something wrong?’ and ‘Keith, are you okay? Why are you walking like that?’ but he kept saying, y’know, ‘No, no, I’m fine. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,’ and pretending we were, like, imagining things? And Shiro had to _drag_ him to urgent care…”

“And he had to wear a cast! Oh my god, I forgot about that part. Yes. And he showed up to martial arts practice wearing this huge medical boot like, ‘Hey guys, I’m ready to fight!’ and--”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“AND I think it took a _lot_ for them to convince Keith that if you’re healing from something you have to _take it easy_ \-- Well, _anyway_ , the point is that you kind of have to… keep an eye on him with this sort of thing, because I don’t think he knows how to take care of himself.”

“I’m _right here_ ,” Keith reminded. He sounded agitated, but his tone would have been sharper if his voice hadn’t cracked again.

“You guys must have been together for a really long time,” Shay observed. “How long have you been dating?”

“What?” A confused frown adorned Keith’s face. “Just a few weeks.”

“Oh, no way,” Shay replied. “You just seem so… _familiar_ with each other? Were you friends before?”

“We were rivals,” Lance declared proudly.

“What?” Keith said again. “We were… friends,” he argued.

“You were always beating me at everything!”

“I already told you I wasn’t _trying_ to--”

“They even talk to each other like… like an old married couple, don’t they?” Shay said to Hunk in a tone that was _way_ too conversational, in Lance’s opinion.

Hunk grinned, and it looked like it was taking all he had in him not to burst out laughing. Under the guise of giving Shay a “house tour”, he excused the both of them, leaving Lance and Keith alone together in the carpeted space between the kitchen and the living room.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked, suspiciously eyeing Lance’s hand, which was hovering just above his face.

“Jeez, relax,” Lance said. He slid his hand underneath Keith’s bangs, palming his forehead. “I just want to check.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Keith insisted. “It’s a cold.”

“You feel kind of warm,” Lance contested.

“It’s hot in here.”

“It’s not!” Lance exclaimed. “The AC is running high and strong. But nice try.” He leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “Come on. You don’t have to stay and pretend if you don’t feel well. Let me take you home.”

Keith frowned. “You’re going to get sick too,” he said, speaking slowly, as if it was taking a lot out of him to admit he was sick in the first place.

“It’s too late for me,” Lance decided, his gaze moving to the front door as he brought his lips closer to Keith’s. “Besides, if I’m gonna get sick from you I can think of a lot more fun ways to do it.”

Keith closed the kiss, then pulled back. “Just let me say goodbye to Shiro first.”

Lance nodded as Keith walked off. “You remember your keys this time?”

An empty solo cup bounced off the top of his head. He probably deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't actually think keith sleeps like the dead. except when he's sick (because his needs it). remember in episode 2 when he like leapt out of bed?? hmm. maybe he got sick from sleeping in his shoes. you can't rest like that


End file.
